Harry Potter And The Six Century Man
by Sloth45
Summary: Nicolas Flamel was quite interested to hear the details of the end of Harry Potter's first year. [Currently on Hiatus, will resume once again when I have time and a chance to re-read the book in question.]
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was lying in bed, feeling somewhat miserable.

He had just survived saving a Philosopher's Stone, an extremely rare magical artifact, from a dark wizard known as Voldemort who was inhabiting one of his teachers, after solving a series of puzzle-like defenses laid down by the staff to protect it with his friends.

The problem was, now that Headmaster Dumbledore and his friends had left, he was starting to feel like he hadn't done _well enough_. The Dark Lord did not get his hands on the stone, but neither had anyone else: According to Dumbledore, the stone had been destroyed, and it's inventor and his wife, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, had come forth and discussed it with the Headmaster, and decided it was fine, but Harry just couldn't see why anyone would think so.

This was because of what exactly the Philosopher's Stone did. It was a clear, red stone, almost like a stone-shaped ruby, and it could be used to both transform any metal into pure gold, and to create something called the Elixir of Life, which could be used to prolong someone's lifespan seemingly indefinitely.

Nicolas and his wife had lived for almost six centuries.

And now, they were going to die, because he couldn't save their stone.

He had been amazed, and Dumbledore had picked right up on it during their chat, at first, and while the Headmaster had explained it was entirely different for adults, 'like going onto the next great adventure', he still couldn't wrap his head around it, and now, since Madam Pomfrey had long since chased any guests out of her Infirmary, he had nothing to distract himself from the events that landed him in the Hospital Wing in the first place.

Well, almost nothing.

Next to the bed, there was a table, and it looked like someone had dumped half a sweet shop onto it. The Headmaster had explained it came from well wishers (and noted that the Weasley Twins, infamous school pranksters and brothers to one of his best friends, had tried to send him a seat from one of the school loos, but Madam Pomfrey put up with that as much as she had the notion of guests disturbing her patients) and had apparently been building there for three days- Until he had finally woken up. Even after a year, it seemed amazing that anyone, much less so many people, would even want to spend anything on him, time, effort, much less piles of sweets, but the evidence was right here next to him. He reached out for the pile, hoping to sort through it and find something to distract himself from his thoughts.

He succeeded. Near the bottom of the pile, there was a note.

* * *

The school year had ended, Hagrid had visited and given him a present (One that was very valuable in his eyes- Pictures of his parents, something he had never had before), Gryffindor had suddenly won the house cup due to his adventure, and he was finally home.

It was unfortunate that, for whatever reason, he wasn't allowed to practice magic over the summer, but it was a stroke of good fortune that the Dursleys, his relatives and who he stayed with, did not know this, and so were thankfully giving him a wide berth. Everything had settled down, for the moment, and he finally had time to sit down, reach down into his trunk, and pull out the simple note.

_Please tap this parchment with your wand when you are alone._

It was one of the stranger notes he had received this year- Even the one that gave him his Invisibility Cloak, his father's before him, didn't require his want to... Do whatever it was this parchment would do. He felt somewhat nervous about it; it wouldn't count as doing magic, right? After all, it was probably the parchment that was magic, and they wouldn't blame him for it... Right?

So he took a deep breath and pressed his wand to the parchment, firmly.

He was suddenly no longer alone.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a strange man in his room. Not strange like Albus Dumbledore, and his taste for unusual robes, but strange in that he had no idea who this man was, or how he seemed to suddenly just exist where previously stood nothing.

However, this man did seem to know exactly who Harry was. Indeed, he looked at him with a sort of mock-disappointment, that kind that anyone who regularly saw the Weasley Twins going about the castle could identify.

"Greetings, Mister Potter. You look as if you don't recognize me- Don't they print my Chocolate Frog card anymore?"

* * *

The first thing he did upon meeting this ancient and powerful wizard was stammering out that he expected his beard to be longer, which horribly embarrassed him, and greatly amused Mr Flamel.

"It's just, you know, Headmaster Dumbledore has a really long beard, and he's a powerful wizard, and-" he continued to stammer, turning redder by the minute.

"It's perfectly alright, Mr Potter. I will admit, my beard is not nearly as long as his, though I do believe it to be almost as fashionable," Nicolas offered, seemingly unperturbed at his apparent lack of a Beard Of Power. It was actually closer to the kind of beard you might expect on a wise old Chinese man, even though Flamel was from France, and didn't seem to consciously be following along muggle expectations.

Harry thought his beard looked a little like a hand-held duster, though he would never, ever admit it.

However, once his shock had worn off, both at the sudden appearance of an apparently ancient and knowledgeable wizard, and at his utter lack of stereotypical and apparently true (if Dumbledore was anything to go by) long beard, he was suddenly filled with questions.

"How did you get in here? How do you know who I am? Am I going to get in trouble for doing magic over the summer? Did-" Harry started, evidently full of curiosity already.

"Please, calm down, Mister Potter, and I will gladly answer your questions. To answer your questions: I Apparated, you are the most famous child alive in our world, and no, since it was my magic and not yours that brought me here. And yes, I can see you want to know more then that, but please allow me to explain why I'm here." said Flamel, sitting down on a comfortable looking chair that Harry could swear had not been there before he sat down.

"You see, I am here because I have heard that you were the one who saved my false stone."

Harry, and the many questions he had to offer, such as if wizards could appear in his home, why didn't they just do that instead of taking trains, and how a piece of parchment could summon people, in favor of suddenly losing his concentration from the mysterious wizard's next words.

"Wait- You mean- What- _False?_" he sputtered in an entirely undignified way, which Mr Flamel politely did not comment on.

"Mister potter, did you think I would really keep a rare, potent magical artifact that many wizards, dark and light, have sought over the centuries in a school for children?" asked Flamel.

Harry had to admit, when he put it like that, it did make sense. "But then, why did-"

"Yes, well," interrupted the old wizard, looking disappointed for real now, "I certainly did not expect Dumbledore's plan to actually bring Voldemort to your school. I had assumed his plan would only be a distraction for a wizard that may actually be dead, though it's been proven that he isn't quite there yet, and I'm rather put out with him for allowing such a monster into his school and around children." said Flamel, eyebrows furrowing.

"Er, I'm sorry that I let Quirrel get the stone-" started Harry, but Flamel just looked up, contemplation forgotten.

"Of course not, don't be silly. I don't blame you in the slightest- Though, I am remarkably impressed by your part in this disaster. You see, Albus told me of the 'protections'," he stated with such obvious verbal quotes that Harry almost giggled out loud before he could help himself, "he placed around the false stone. Really, the Mirror of Erised? People have wasted away in front of that mirror, and he placed it where a student could get to it! Surely, he was not hoping Voldemort himself would be entranced by such a thing?" said Flamel, as he started to drift back off into his own thoughts. Harry coughed, unsure of how to get his attention again without being rude, but the cough in and of itself seemed to do so.

"Anyway, yes, the Mirror. Albus explained to you what it did, yes?" asked Flamel.

"Yes sir. I mean, he told me it showed only the deepest desire of our hearts... Is that right?" asked Harry, somewhat timid. It wasn't like a classroom, talking to a teacher- He was alone, talking to someone who probably knew far more things then he ever could. Nicolas didn't seem to mind, though.

"Yes, that is right, and that is precisely that makes the mirror so dangerous. And yet..." He looked up from his musing and turned slightly to look Harry in the eyes, making him a little nervous. "...You managed to obtain the stone." he muttered quietly, to himself.

"Sorry, sir, if I wasn't supposed to-" started Harry, but Nicolas cut him off, which seemed to be something he did often.

"Sorry? My boy, you should be the opposite of sorry. You truly wanted the stone in that moment, more then anything else, but you did not want to use it in any way- Either for riches or fame or life. What, then, _did_ you want out of my stone?" the old wizard asked gently. Suddenly, Harry felt it was safe to answer truly, as if Flamel had suddenly picked up Dumbledore's aura of a calm, elderly figure. Was that another power of great wizards?

"I... I wanted to protect it, keep it safe from Voldemort, and Quirrel. I couldn't let them have it- I know they couldn't have done anything good with it," offered Harry, before looking away. He was surprised, however, when a gentle hand came up to his chin and raised his eyes back up to the ancient alchemist's.

"I had thought so. Someone like you does not come along very often, not very often at all. And I don't mean the fact you vanquished a dark lord at one. No, I think you might be very special, indeed..." Flamel thought out loud to himself, before he focused back on Harry. "Tell me, you did know what the Stone does, right?" he questioned.

"It creates the Elixir of Life, and can turn any metal into gold, sir," said Harry.

"Any pure metal," corrected Flamel, "Into pure gold, but essentially correct. Tell me, Mister Potter, would you like to come with me for the summer?"


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was shocked. Not spending the summer with the Dursleys? Whatever he had expected to be the reason for the visit from Nicolas Flamel, that wasn't it. In fact, he was speechless, jaw hanging open as he entirely failed to formulate a response. Mister Flamel, fortunately, seemed to be patient to wait. After what seemed like forever to the young boy, he asked, voice trembling slightly, "Do you mean it, sir?"

Flamel leaned forward in his chair. "Of course I'm sure, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't, Mister Potter. That is, of course, if you're interested-" he calmly explained just before getting jumped by an eleven year old, who was presently hugging him as if he was terrified he would vanish the moment he let go.

"Of course I want to! Please, please let me spend the summer with you! You'll take me to Hogwarts after, right?" he asked. Nicolas frowned a little, but made sure Harry didn't see it, wondering what kind of child was so absolutely happy to leave his family.

"Of course I'll bring you back to Hogwarts when it's time for your second year, why wouldn't I? And are you sure you shouldn't ask your family?" Flamel asked the young boy, who stiffened at the mention of the Dursleys and stepped back, completely mortified from his behavior. Hugging a complete stranger! Now there was no way he would want to take him along for the summer! But he was still asking anyway...

"I'm sure they don't mind. They'll be glad to get me out of the house, really..." he said, looking dejected, finding the floor suddenly fascinating. Nicolas frowned again, but decided that if what he suspected really was true, it would bear having that particular conversation somewhere else.

"I see... Well, Mister Potter, you better be packing your trunk, shouldn't you?" he asked, and while his eyes didn't twinkle in the same way his well known friend's did, the same kind of feeling could be heard in his voice. Harry looked up, confused.

"What? But-" he started.

"Now, none of that. If you still want to come, you better start packing your things for Hogwarts, unless you'd rather come back here before you leave for your second year?" Flamel teased gently. Harry went still for a moment, before leaping up from his seat on the bed, quickly looking around the room to make sure everything was in his trunk (And it was, for it was infinitely safer to keep his _freakish_ items hidden away from the Dursley's) before starting an incoherent babble of thanks that was quickly hushed by the kindly old alchemist. "Now, while you're doing that, I will just go confirm with your relatives about this plan, and we'll be off."

Ignoring Harry's sudden look of horror, he vanished.

* * *

A few minutes later, he was sitting on his trunk while Mister Flamel was standing, looking very lost in thought.

He had vanished from Harry's room, and Harry had looked out his window to see he had reappeared equally silently outside and was strolling up to the front door to meet the Dursleys.

The row that followed had only entered the house so that their shouting wouldn't be heard by the neighbors, and was a scathing testament to how much the perfectly normal Dursley family hated anything that wasn't equally perfectly normal.

To Harry, it was everything he had expected when he saw a wizard try to introduce himself to his relatives.

However, once it became clear this strange, unknown man was here to take away the child under their care for the summer, or so he said, the Dursleys were immediately happy to get rid of him, shouting out for the "BOY!" to get down there and leave with him.

And so Harry fidgeted on his trunk, and Nicolas started to pace in thought.

"Er- I mean, Mister Flamel?" he asked timidly, not sure even now if he would accept him now that his family showed what they thought of him. Nicolas looked up from his pacing, and went to stand next to Harry's trunk again.

"Yes, Harry?" He asked, surprising Harry slightly that he wasn't "Mister Potter" anymore, but didn't give it much mind.

"You still want to bring me along, right?" he asked, almost flinching when the older wizard sighed and went back to his pacing for a moment.

Flamel knew well that Harry Potter was something else, and not for any of his specific deeds. No, he was a very unique soul indeed, which is why he was considering more then just a summer away from home, if the boy accepted. No, what he was wondering is why Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Heir to the Ancient And Most Noble House of Potter (In spite of it's more recent mixing with half-bloods, as some would inevitably think would discredit such a title,) seemed to have such a hard time accepting that anyone would want him around.

However, from what small experience he had with his caretakers, he had an idea, and he didn't like it. He ceased his pacing, and turned to face Harry. Perhaps he needed to be more clear.

"Mister Potter. I have invited you to spend the summer with me because I want you to spend the summer with me. This is because I do in fact want you around. Is that clear?" he asked, and Harry looked like... Well, as if a muggle had just transfigured a rabbit into a hat in front of him.

"I- You mean it?" he asked.

"I mean it," said Flamel.

It was only through force of will Harry didn't start hugging him again.

* * *

Side-Along Apparition, as Flamel called it, was a very strange feeling indeed. It wasn't too unpleasant, but Flamel just smiled and said that it usually _was_, very much so, and it was one of the benefits of traveling with someone who had lived long enough to master all forms of magical travel regularly used. Harry was fascinated at this, and wanted to learn to master it as well, but was disheartened to find that he couldn't legally Apparate by himself until he was a grown up, even when it seemed so familiar to Harry, but he was quickly distracted by the fact that Nicolas Flamel, master alchemist and famous wizard, lived with his wife in a quiet little cottage in Devon, to the west of Little Whinging, instead of- Harry didn't know, a grand castle? A huge estate? Something rich and tasteful for the man who could make gold from any pure metal, but when he asked, Nicolas just said that he had a fine quiet little life here. However, more along the lines of what he expected was this:

"Well, it is true that I own quite a bit of property all over the world- I've been considering moving back to France for some time now, and most of the properties I have there are quite a bit more extravagant then this old place, I'll admit," he offered cheerfully.

Harry dutifully followed Flamel in, and was quickly directed up to the guest room while Nicolas had a word with with wife. Perhaps this summer really would work out.


	4. Chapter 4

After Harry had settled into the guest room, and fished out his school trunk, now shrunken to the size of a beetle, he realized he didn't actually know how _unshrink_ his trunk. Without that, there really wasn't much unpacking to be done, so he walked back out to the living area, and was stopped by the sight of Nicolas and Perenelle- Who were currently in a hot debate over whatever it was that had Nicolas lost in thought earlier that day.

Harry awkwardly stood in the door, wishing he had managed to unpack his invisibility cloak when Perenelle noticed him and gave her husband a look that said that they would continue their conversation later, and determinedly walked over to harry with all the determination of a wild cat following it's prey- Before scooping him up into a hug, with declarations of how nice it was to meet him. It was quite the strange experience for Harry, since as far as he knew only people like Ms Weasley did things like that, but he didn't quite feel like fighting back, so the hug went on uncontested.

Eventually, she put him down, however, and he managed to speak. "Er, thank you for bringing me here, Mr and Mrs Flamel, but I sort of don't know how to unshrink my trunk..." he offered lamely, feeling like he was interrupting something more important then his own minor concerns. Perenelle, on the other hand, was having none of it, and gently took his hand.

"Of course, dear, don't you worry. Nicolas, how on earth could you forget to unshrink his trunk? Well, come along now, let's get that out of the way." she said, gently guiding him back to his room and unshrinking his with a tap of her wand and lightly patting him on the head fondly as she left.

Harry, somewhat nonplussed, just pulled his trunk closer to the bed and sat down, sorting through his belongings. Should he put things up on display? He was only a guest, but he was going to be staying a while. And, now that he thought about it, he wasn't really sure what exactly he _would_ be doing over the summer- He just saw a chance to escape the dursley's for a time, and jumped at the chance, and now he felt somewhat foolish for not thinking ahead- Hermione would probably chastise him over it, while Ron would probably say it was a very Gryffindor thing to do and clap him on the back. Harry grinned- He had only been in the magical world a year now, but he had already made some great friends. He started to pull things out of his trunk to sort through them- He had an awful lot of chocolate left over from his stay at the hospital wing, but he didn't quite feel like chocolate at the moment. Instead, his hand wandered to a certain leather-bound album.

* * *

_Knock-Knock._

Harry looked up from the pictures of his parents, gifted from Hagrid not long after all the sweets had been delivered, to see Nicolas smiling and knocking on the wall- The door was wide open, and probably had been that way for quite some time now.

"Hello, Harry. Am I interrupting something?" he asked, looking amused. Harry wondered what it was about elderly wizards and being amused by the things young people did.

"No, sir, just looking over a gift from Hagrid." he answered, realising a second later he might not know who Hagrid was. However-

"Rubeus Hagrid? I wasn't aware you knew the groundskeeper," Nicolas stated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's a friend of the family, I hear. He's nice," offered harry. On reflection, it was a little strange- Most other students didn't seem to connect with the giant man, and some (Like Malfoy) probably thought he wasn't worth their time. Harry shook his head. Malfoy was a jerk, nothing more to be said, as far as he was concerned.

At that moment, however, yet another knock came, distant, but insistent.

"Well, this can wait. I do believe I know who that is. Come, let's not keep Albus waiting!" he exclaimed, with a certain air about him that reminded Harry of something he couldn't quite pin down, and Harry followed soon after.

By the time they had entered the living room, Perenelle had already let the Headmaster in, and they were both seated in the corner, facing each other on two separate couches with a small coffee table between them. They both called them over, and they too joined the visit, Nicolas sitting with his wife, and Harry sitting down next to Dumbledore. That seemed to set off the conversation again.

"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore," said harry, shifting a little in his seat. He wasn't in trouble, was he?

"Hello, Harry, it's wonderful to see you again, although I will admit I was expecting to see you at the beginning of year feast instead," returned the old wizard, his eyes twinkling in that way that he seemed so fond of, before he turned to his hosts. "And it's wonderful to see you as well, Nicolas, Perenelle. I do apologize what happened to the Stone, once again," he said, looking unusually sombre. Harry started to say something, but a subtle glance from Perenelle set him back into quiet observation while Nicolas and Dumbledore conversed.

"Indeed, it was somewhat of a disaster, but that's all in the past now," said Nicolas in a voice that sounded very much like he had not totally forgiven his old friend, "Which of course brings us to the reason you are here," he continued.

"Yes, indeed. Well, as you know, Harry is very important to us. This is why we have him reside at Privet Drive, as the strongest protections we can cast also reside there, and we want to keep him as safe as possible," Dumbledore said, though it sounded rehearsed, like something said many times before, and Harry got the feeling it was mostly being explained for his benefit.

"Yes, strongest wards known _today_, I might add. However, Harry is perfectly safe here, and there's absolutely nothing to worry about," said Nicolas firmly. Dumbledore looked interested, and leaned forward, but Nicolas saw the glint in his eye and added "-And you _know_ we can't tell you the wards we have around our properties, because just more people knowing about them makes them less secure, you understand," he said, much as though they had had this conversation before. Dumbledore looked much as if he had been about to snatch a cookie from the cookie jar, only to have the jar whisk itself away and lock itself in a pantry out of reach.

"Yes, I understand. Still, I wish you had given be warning before you had done so," he offered as a weak rebuttal.

"Indeed I would have, had you actually shown yourself to be his caretaker. Instead, I spoke to his relatives, who seemed perfectly fine with such a thing, and practically helped him pack," explained Nicolas. That was a strange way to say they wanted him gone and nearly shoved him out the door, thought Harry, but remained quiet. "So, we have their permission, we have more then sufficient warding, and I do believe Harry will have fun during his time here. He will, of course, only be spending the summer, as I'm sure you saw in the owl, so there really is no problem that I can see with this arrangement," said the elder alchemist, in what was not _quite_ crowing, because Harry was sure he was too old and dignified for such a tone. Dumbledore seemed- Defeated, for lack of a better word, but also somewhat mollified.

"Well, I suppose that all of this is acceptable, then," said the Headmaster, turning and being almost surprised to see Harry, as if he had forgotten he was there. "Do have some fun while you can, Harry," he said, with that twinkle in his eye returning before he stood up, excused himself, and left.

Harry almost manged to mention the fact that Dumbledore didn't mention the stone was a fake, before Perenelle, with a casual air about her, pulled out the nicest broom he'd ever seen and mentioned that the Flamels owned a Quidditch field.


	5. Chapter 5

The Nimbus 2001, Harry decided, was the best broom ever.

After Nicolas had taken Harry's hand, and they reappeared after on a Quidditch Pitch, Harry had initially been disappointed that Nicolas didn't have an entire Quidditch team on standby to play with, until Perenelle had followed along shortly after, holding a broom.

The broom, an apparent prototype, and it would fly almost as if it was responding to his thoughts before he had to think them, and as soon as he was in the air Harry forgot all about playing Quidditch in favor of just flying. This proved to be a good thing, as it was still a little wobbly in the sharp turns, but would probably be ironed out in the official release. How on earth Flamel had gotten ahold of it was a mystery, but it probably involved a copious amount of gold.

Below, Nicolas and Perenelle watched on in mild amazement. This was a new thing, for in all their years, they had never seen someone so young so good. They didn't attend many Hogwarts Quidditch matches, but they felt certain Harry was probably the best player of his house, at the very least.

However, even with just the joy of Flying, Harry was distracted yet again soon enough- For while they did not have a team on hand, the Flamels did have _supplies_. And so, Harry was soon chasing after Golden Snitches- After he caught one, another would be released, and he would hold onto the caught ones while he chased the new ones. He only managed to hold onto three at once, however.

Eventually he landed, and held up the hand with the three snitches, grinning. Nicolas simply smiled and suddenly all three were flying through the air to land in his hand, until all three were held simply between his fingers in a flashy display.

"See? I'm not a half bad seeker myself," offered Flamel with a laugh.

"Hey, that's cheating!" exclaimed harry, although the smile on his face didn't fade in the slightest.

"Only a little. Besides, you can't do that in a regular match- The Anti-Summoning charms only go down "After the game", really. Did you have fun?" asked Nicolas, while his wife disappeared behind him. Harry didn't really pay it any mind, as he was far too excited.

"Of course I did! This broom's amazing!" he said, doing a loop-de-loop in the air. Had he not displayed his impressive skills, Nicolas would have been worried about him doing it so close to the ground, but he let it slide.

"Compared to the Hogwart's school brooms, I'm sure a muggle broom for sweeping is probably a decent upgrade. But if you really like it so much..." teased Nicolas. Harry looked blank, and after a few moments, Nicolas decided to spare the poor boy.

He leaned closer, giving a faux whisper: "You can have it, if you really want," he said with a wink.

"I- You mean- I- _This broom?_" Harry stuttered. He was a little more used to getting gifts, but something like this probably cost more then Number 4, Privet Drive!

"Yes, that broom. I try not to flaunt my wealth enough to destabilize the economy, but I do have it, and I think a natural like you can make better use of it then I can," said Flamel, shortly before Harry once again leapt forward and hugged him, broom floating out from underneath him and settling onto the ground slowly.

* * *

"You know, dear, if you want, we can help you practice your spells for next year," stated Perenelle, breezing about the kitchen. Flamel had explained on the way back that Perenelle liked to cook, and often donated baked goods to various places anonymously, so as to not let it go to waste. Harry, meanwhile, was surprised yet again- Something it seemed the Flamels were either very good at, or enjoyed doing very much.

"What do you mean? I got a note telling me we couldn't do magic over the summer," said Harry. The Weasley Twins had even said that they hoped every year that the school would forget to hand them out, which meant the upper years got them, too. Perenelle just paused in her work and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that. Well, it's a bit of an open secret that it _really_ only means 'everyone but Purebloods', since ancient family homes and manners and just about any rich person's home has enough wards to scramble a magical signature so much that it becomes nigh impossible to trace..." she wandered off, as it became clear she was losing him a little. "...Yes, dear, you can do magic here, but only in one of our properties," she summarized. Harry nodded; from what little he'd seen of the wizarding world, that did indeed seem exactly like something Malfoy would want to get away with, and so he probably could.

"Well, okay. Do you know what I should start on?" he asked. Perenelle just laughed and said "Anything but Potions, dear. If my husband finds out you have any interest in it, he won't let you leave his potions lab until you could pass your NEWTs!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in a comic gesture that made Harry giggle a little. It was so animate, and he thought that he liked Mrs Flamel.

"Did I hear the word Potions?" asked Nicolas as he walked in, levitating a series of bags that followed in behind him.

"Oh dear, now you're in for it. I'm dreadfully sorry to have sealed you into such a fate, Harry," Perenelle apologized, though there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward. "Er, sorry sir, I'm not very good at potions-" he started, but Flamel simply waved his wand and all the bags landed in a corner with a heavy thud, and sat down.

"That's because I've met your potions master, and even I have heard the rumors of his classes, despite never attending Hogwarts myself. He's a decent potions master, I suppose, for his time, but he really has no knack for teaching. Really, I'm sure whatever difficulties you have are probably not entirely your fault," said Flamel. Privately, Harry thought that it was because Snape was biased towards literally everyone but his own house, but didn't mention it.

Flamel thought it was because this boy was clearly too bright to _not_ be good at potions... If he could just be taught properly.

"You know, I bet I could show you a few things around a Potions Lab that Professor Snape hasn't even considered. Tell me, are you any good at cooking?"

* * *

AN: I appologise for the Nimbus 1998 error- I had my timelines confused, and was thinking of the firebolt. It was a fairly bad error, and I hope the quick patch added keeps the story intact without needing a hefty rewrite. Please, continue to send in reviews; I would have never caught such a glaring error otherwise.


End file.
